


Just Lucky

by SkyTurtle



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Prohibition, Young King Dice, shapeshifter Devil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyTurtle/pseuds/SkyTurtle
Summary: Young Kingsley Dice had survived only this long because of his luck and charm. When things turn sour, he has no one to turn to. Thankfully, someone wants to make a deal with him.“Here I was thinking that you'd been hung out to dry. But here you are, awake and breathing.”





	Just Lucky

“When I get my hands on you I'll make you regret the day you were born!”

Dice barely heard the old man's shouting over the sound of dogs barking only a few yards behind him. He ran as hard as his legs could carry him but the job was not made any easier with the bag of stolen goods slung over his shoulder. The sack weighed him down and made each step a struggle, but with those dogs after him he couldn't even think of stopping. 

If he could just make it to the next farmhouse, he might be safe. He knew for a fact that next building was abandoned, if he could get inside he might just lose the dogs and find a chance to sneak away.

A particularly loud bark startled him and pushed Dice ever farther forward. When did the old man even get guard dogs!? He was prepared to run away from a feeble man with a shotgun, not a small pack of ferocious dogs ready to tear him apart.

The abandoned farmhouse was close now, he just had to get inside!

He skid around the corner of the building, almost losing grip of his haul in the process, but he found what he was looking for. Just ahead of him was a broken window. He threw the bag in first, praying that nothing would break in the process, then jumped up himself. His already tired arms strained trying to lift him through and his legs scrabbled for leverage. 

Within moments the sound of barking was directly under him and he could feel hot breath on his ankles. Pain burst in his foot at he felt one of the dogs try to bite him through his shoe.

With a final burst of adrenaline and an undignified screech he heaved his small body through the window, past the broken glass and onto the floor with a _thud_. 

The barking continued outside as he caught his breath. His shoe had a few new holes, but his foot got away with only some ugly bruising. More harm was done to his arm when he pushed himself past the glass. There was a shallow gash on the back of his arm that would need to be bandaged up. But what about the stolen goods?

Dice quickly found the bag behind him. There was liquid seeping through and spilling onto the floor.

“No!” He opened up the sack and began pulling out the bottles, checking each one for cracks.

The boy gave a small sigh. One of the bottles had broken into four pieces, spilling all the fluid inside. It was a disappointment to have lost so much alcohol, but there were still seven more.

Using a shard from the broken bottle, Dice tore a strip of cloth from the curtains and wrapped it around his arm. The barking outside had dwindled into occasional whining and grumbling. In a few minutes the dogs would get bored and go home, but he couldn't risk having the old man catching up to him. Bag once again over his shoulder, he snuck around to the front of the house and crept through the door. With the dogs still on the other side of the building he only had to run until he was back in town and into the comfortable alleyways. 

It may not have gone as smoothly as he expected, but considering that he risked the chance of being shot every time he went on one of his “supply runs” this was certainly the better outcome. When all the odds were taken into account, young Kingsley Dice was very lucky to have survived as long as he had.

 

 

After the stolen booze had been watered down and distributed into smaller bottles, Dice made his way into his most frequented alley. Behind the cheap apartments and gambling dens, beside the dilapidated bridges was a cozy little area that was noticeably more sheltered than the rest of alleyways. As such, many of the local homeless and drifters gathered there.

None of them could afford much more than a meal a day, but in times as harsh as these who could deny themselves the few pleasures they had left? Especially when a young lad arrived and offered illegal alcohol at a very low figure.

Several of the men and women greeted him with familiar smiles, while others were completely uninterested in his arrival Everyone here knew him to some degree or another, even if they never did business with him.

Many of the homeless people had dimes ready for him as he set his bag down. Dice smiled and sold his contraband with just enough cheeriness to be viewed as the harmless kid they all expected. He knew almost all their names and vices and knew how to boondoggle as much money as he could out of each of them.

“Good mornin', kid. I trust your family's well?” The man handed him a couple dimes for a few bottles. He must have more money than usual today. Everyone called him Mouthy Mark because he liked to gossip. It wasn't out of ill intention, he was just easily bored and so took interest in other people's affairs. 

“My pop is doin' grand! He got a real skip in his step since he made this new batch, I think he mighta' made this one a little stronger than usual. Ma says that we might be able to stop cuttin' the booze if our good luck keeps up.”

“Goodness, do you really think so?”

“That's what ma says!”

He reached into one of his many pockets and found another dime. “Well, I'll drink to that! To your family's luck!”

Dice put the proper shocked and grateful expression on his face has he handed over another bottle. “Why, thank you! You're too kind!” Mouthy Mark tipped his hat and left with his alcohol. 

Perhaps if Dice was a different type of person he might feel guilty about lying so easily to someone he'd known for years. But as it was, all he could think about was how those three dimes alone would feed him today.

He knew that many of the people here liked to speculate about him, he heard them whisper when they thought he was preoccupied.

He'd hear things like _“Do you think that Dice kid even has a family like he says? Wouldn't we have seen 'em by now?”_

or _“He must be working for that gamblin' den. Look at how he makes people talk!”_

_“Doll, you're talking about a twelve year old like he's some sorta high class grifter.”_

_“I think his parents work at that shady ladies club.”_

_“Ya think?”_

They talked, but they never stopped buying. In fact, curiosity seemed to bring more customers. Of course, most of them didn't know they were customers when they first came up to him.

In short order, all of the bottles that he had brought with him were sold. He counted up the change in his hand. One dollar and twenty cents. Not bad. But he could do better before going home. Dice sat on the ground and pulled a deck of cards out of his bag.

Every movement was a show. It was all meant to look casual and approachable. Dice knew many card tricks and shuffling techniques, and knew he could pull them off without a hitch. But he made sure that while he “practiced” shuffling in front of people he messed up. Occasionally, he would press too hard and cards would go flying into the air, or he would 'accidentally' drop a card that slipped out of the deck.

All he had to do was keep it up until someone decided to talk to him...

“Hey, kid. I think this is yours.” A younger woman stood over him, holding a stray card.

Dice put on the cute, apologetic grin that he knew disarmed people. “Sorry there, miss.”

“What are you doing with those cards anyway? Doesn't look like any game I know.” 

Perfect. “Really? Let me show you how to play!”

Fifteen minutes later, he had not only explained how the game worked but had 'lost' to her four times. It was only then that he brought up the idea of a bet. “Ugh, I'll never win like this!” He whined. 

“Don't worry, you'll get there. I just have beginner's luck.” She didn't really believe that. They never did. Adults were always eager to believe that they knew better than children. And, of course, none of them wanted to believe that they were really foolish enough to be conned by one.

“Oh, I know!” Dice put down a few pennies next to the cards. “If I raise the stakes, I'll be more motivated to win.”

She laughed. “I hardly think that a bet will help you be a better player.”

“Sure it will! Now I have something to lose.”

She looked at him with an expression of fondness and pity. “Well, if you're going to insist on this, it might as well be fair.” She put down a few pennies as well.

Dice continued to 'lose' the next few rounds. The woman, in her kindness, insisted on giving him the chance to win back everything he lost plus a little extra. Dice didn't let himself win until she had bet an extra sixty cents.

“I won!” He cheered, as if it was a surprise to him.

“U-uh... Yeah, I guess you did...”

“I knew that them pennies would do the trick. But then again, you're such a good player, I'm sure I was just lucky that time.”

She sighed, but smiled anyway. “Maybe we can play again later?”

Some people really were too quick to believe in luck.

 

Young Kingsley Dice had seen many dangerous people in his life. His mother was no stranger with knives and had worked as a torch for the local mob all the way up to her death a few years ago. Arson was a profitable career and her work kept food on the table for most of his life. When she died and Dice found himself orphaned, he realized that he had very few options. He was only nine years old at the time, but he knew that his future was grim.

He could have followed the friendly people to the “nice home for orphaned waifs” as they called it, but he had seen what happened to the children who were sent to those foster homes. The few he had met were all strange kids with odd scars and bruises, and were always skittish, jumping at the slightest noise. 

Seeking his mother's mob was something else he considered. He knew that they hired young children for various small tasks like delivering messages or moving whatever 'products' they had from place to place. He doubted they would turn away a new dove or mule. But he would only be a step away from servitude. He had watched his mother die in service to them, and he had no plans of following in her footsteps. 

The only choice left to him was to find some way to survive by himself. Begging, digging through garbage and a few attempts at theft got him through the first few months. 

If his experience with his mother and her mob didn't teach him to recognize dangerous people, his first few months on the street would have. A cold, hungry child made an easy target. People of all types came to him unprompted and offered food, shelter, money and other luxuries. Everything offered to him came with a price and he wasn't stupid enough wait and see what that price was. 

Others skipped any attempts to bribe him and simply tried to kidnap him. But they had to get close to do that. Dice knew to keep everyone just out of arm's reach so he'd always have a chance to run. And on the few occasions that he _was_ caught, well. Let's just say that mother wasn't the only one who knew how to hold a knife.

The point was that Dice knew how to read people's intentions. He could judge if the person walking up to him just wanted a chintzy ale or if their goal ended with him in a gutter.

These people didn't want chintzy ale.

A woman and two men had come into the alley while Dice was busy pretending to be terrible guessing which cup had the marble under it. They looked like most of the others, but there was something wrong with the way they carried themselves.

Distracted as he was, it took him a few minutes to realize what it was that bothered him. They all kept at least one hand in their pockets. The day was warm, almost too warm to wear a coat at all, let alone keep your hands bundled in your pockets. They were armed and they were ready to use whatever weapons they had.

He had to leave before things got ugly. Kingsley made a few excuses, packed up his stuff and started to try and sneak away. He stayed close to the walls, kept quiet, and tried to act as natural as possible. Everything he could do to avoid seeming important.

“Hey, kid!” 

It wasn't enough.

The man who called out to him was broad, but friendly looking. The type of person you'd expect to see selling freshly caught fish on Saturday morning. Dice suppressed a shiver. The worst people always looked the nicest. “Yessir?”

“You're the one who's pop sells giggle juice, right?”

He nodded tentatively, unsure if that was the right answer.

The other two goons were watching them talk from a few feet away. “Must make ya a pretty penny, business like that.”

“Not much, sir. Times are tough for everyone, we ain't got deep pockets like you think.”

“Really now?” The man nodded toward his bag. “Let's have a look and see it you got enough to spot me a few bucks.”

Dice immediately reached for his bag, hoping that if he just gave the man his money he could avoid trouble. He was still fumbling with the zipper he heard Mouthy Mark speak up. “Hey, what are ya doin', tryin' to bleed a kid. Little Dice here has been good to us for years now.”

“Back off, twit.” The man grumbled, his friendly facade slipping.

Mouthy shoved at the man, no doubt preparing to give him a piece of his mind. No sooner had he finished the movement, the goons all revealed hidden pistols. There were a few gasps and short shrieks as Mouthy was kicked to the ground. A few of the others made motions to help him, but they were quickly beaten and shoved to the ground as well. “If one more of ya makes to act stupid I'll have to use this pea shooter, you got that!?” The woman shouted.

Dice looked toward the alley's exit, then back to the scuffle. The goons were distracted trying to keep everyone else under control, this may be his last chance. He ran. 

One of the goons shouted behind him but he didn't dare listen. He ducked around the first corner, but he could already hear one of them giving chase. This wasn't like the dogs, there was no convenient farm house. There were just more alleys and empty roads, he couldn't escape like this! There was the sound of gunfire from behind him. Had the others started shooting his customers? He turned a few more sharp corners, hoping to lose the goon but had no such luck. The heavy footsteps were still close behind him.

_BANG!_

The deafening gunshot echoed throughout the alley at the same time that Dice fell to ground. Searing pain kicked in and shot through his left arm moments later, ripping a pathetic whine from his throat.

He saw the goons' feet step next to him before the bag was torn off of him, Dice screaming as the rough treatment lit his senses on fire. He heard the man struggle with the bag for a minute before it fell into his line of view again. “All that damn trouble over two an' a half bucks!?” 

Dice tried to pick himself off the ground only to be rewarded with a swift kick to the gut, shortly followed by another to the head.

His vision spun with lights and his ears sang from the impact. He tried to regain control over his senses but before he could he felt another wallop hit the side of his head and his vision went dark all at once.

 

When he woke up the sun was low and casting dark shadows across the alley. Dice tried to remember why he hurt so much. Something about a man with... a gun? Had he been shot and killed? This certainly wasn't how he imagined Hell, nor Heaven. He rolled himself onto his back despite the agony it caused. Blood. There was blood around him. Was it his own? It must be. Where was he bleeding from?

A glance over his body told him it was from his arm and the amount of pain coming from there confirmed it. So he'd been shot and left for dead, probably robbed too. 

Dice scooted himself closer to the wall so he could sit up, hoping to avoid slipping back into unconsciousness. He tried to think through his options but focusing was like trying to grip sand, the tighter he held the more it slipped through his fingers. He had to let the thoughts come to him gradually.

He needed a doctor, that was obvious. If the blood loss wasn't serious enough, the wound would likely get infected too. But where could he even find a doctor? He couldn't remember where the hospital was and even if he did, he doubted that he could get there in this state. Would they even bother treating a half-dead waif like him? He had no money to give them and no connections to speak for him.

Maybe the other homeless drifters could help him. But what reason did he have to believe that they were in any better state than he was? As far as he knew, they were already dead. 

Kingsley laughed, feeling lightheaded and hysterical. Maybe he was going to die here. He supposed surviving over three years as a homeless orphan wasn't a bad run. He wondered what would kill him first. Would it be blood loss? Or maybe he'd get an infection and go out in a blaze of fever and hallucinations. Starvation was also possible, but he hoped that wouldn't be the case. Starvation sounded so slow and he'd rather not die hungry. 

**“Now what do we have here?”** The voice felt like oil as it slipped past him.

The words almost passed by unnoticed when Dice suddenly registered that a voice must mean a person was here with him. His head snapped up so see who was speaking.

**“Here I was thinking that you'd been hung out to dry. But here you are, awake and breathing.”**

The person kneeling in front of him was impossible to describe. It was very frustrating. Dice could definitely see a man kneeling in front of him, but no matter how long he looked he couldn't make out any details. It was like his eyes just refused to acknowledge any colors or features, and so he was just left with an outline of a person. All he could say for sure was that the figure was smiling.

Hallucinations and fever it was, then. Now that he thought about it, it did feel like it had gotten rather warm during the past few seconds. He chuckled. “And who are you meant to be? The Grim Reaper?”

The man laughed. It was a loud, scratching sound like metal being crushed. **“Not quite, kid. It was a good guess though.”**

“Why are you here, then?”

 **“Consider me a businessman. I came here 'cause I heard you had something that I need. Thought maybe I came too late, but here I find you still clinging to life like a cat in a tree.”** He ruffled a hand on Kingsley's head, scratching his scalp slightly with his claws.

So he had claws, then. That was good to know. “If you're hoping for cash or coffin varnish, 'fraid I'm fresh outta both.”

He laughed again. **“Can't say I'm in need of either. No, I need something different from you. But first, let's talk about what I can do for you.”**

The man pressed a few clawed fingers against the bullet wound, making Dice screech in pain. But only moments later, all the hurt was gone. By the time the man pulled his hand back it felt as if the injury had never existed at all.

He flexed and stretched his arm a few times, curious. There was barely an ache. Even his head had cleared a bit. **“Consider that a down payment.”**

Dice shivered despite the warmth in the air. This wasn't a hallucination, and whatever was happening would have consequences. His life may have just been saved, but would it be worth it? “I'm not sure if I want your 'payment'.” 

**“Sharp kid, how about this. You come with me for a while, I'll explain exactly what it is I need from you, and you can decide for yourself if you'd rather die. Heck, if you decide dying is what you want I'll even cool you myself, real quick and painless. Doubt you'll find a better deal 'round these parts.”**

“And how do I know you won't just take whatever it is you want from me anyway, huh? How do I know this ain't just some put-on?”

The man's tail flicked back and forth behind him in an amused fashion. Wait, tail? **“Son, if I just wanted to kidnap you I wouldn't have bothered with that down payment. Now what do you say? Do we have a deal?”**

Agree to some mysterious task or death. He supposed he had more options now than he did ten minutes ago. This man was obviously dangerous, but whatever his intentions were, he needed Kingsley's cooperation. 

He hauled himself to his feet, fighting a wave of dizziness in the process, and held his hand out to the mysterious man. “Fine. It's a deal.”

A clawed hand wrapped around his own and shook just once. **“It's your lucky day, kid.”**

 

The man led him to a great gleaming building that proclaimed itself to be “The Devil's Casino.” Dice recalled hearing whispers about this place being built not long ago. From what he heard it was just some swank looking clip joint, but he'd had no idea that it was on this scale. It was a huge, multistory building with spires that made it resemble a castle more than a club, with the Devil being the clear “king” as his image was everywhere.

Once they stepped inside the man encouraged him to lead the way. **“I want you to get a good look around the joint. See the sights.”**

The inside was full of temptations that Dice was smart enough to only look at. He let himself wander a little. The air was full of laughter and shouts and reeked of cigarettes. The high ceilings were covered with huge chandeliers that sparkled behind the hazy smoke. It seemed like every vice was accounted for here. There were multiple bars that doubtlessly had alcohol hidden under the counters, cigars and cigarettes were being sold at every table, Dice even spied an area that led to motel style rooms, and he'd be willing to bet that they rented by the hour.

And the gambling. How could he overlook the gambling at a casino? Every game he could think of was here. There were craps tables, poker, blackjack, roulette, pai gow and seemingly endless rows of slot machines. It truly was a paradise of sin and debauchery.

**“What do ya think?”**

The man never let him stray too far away. Dice was conscious of him lingering just outside of his periphery as he explored. He still wasn't able to get a good look at him, but the most frustrating thing now was that no one else seemed to notice he was even there. Given how... _indefinable_ the man was, he would have thought that he'd attract attention. But no, even as he blatantly stole a cigar and lit it with flame summoned from his hand, not a single person looked at him.

“I think that you had a reason for bringin' me here.”

He chuckled. **“Have a look over there.”** He gestured to a few of the card tables. **“Tell me, out of all the people playing right now, how many of them are cheating?”**

Dice looked over the various patrons. Most of them seemed like they were just there to have a good time, even if it meant losing some money, but on closer inspection... “Two.”

**“Two?”**

“Two. The man with the shiny jacket and the slick hair has a friend signaling him. And the lady with the big hair is hiding cards in her shawl.”

The man squinted at the two players he pointed out. After a few moments of scrutiny a broad, pointed smile spread on his face. **“Well, I'll be damned. I'll be right back. You stay here, little pip.”**

The man faded like smoke in front of his eyes. Dice gave a resigned sigh. He was starting to question how much of this was real again. 

A commotion toward the back of the casino drew his attention. He couldn't make out the words, but there was some nervous chatter from the people peeking through one of the doorways. Dice was just considering investigating himself, when the people suddenly backed away from the door, making way for someone coming through.

He jumped as a terrifying mix of tall horns, pointed tail, claws, teeth and fur burst through the door. Kingsley recognized him as the Devil, but the most frightening thing was that he was sure he'd seen that pointed smile only moments before. 

He'd been touring The Devil's Casino with the proprietor himself and had no idea.

The Devil made a beeline for the cheaters, singling them out. Everyone else backed away as he spoke to them, but Dice stepped closer, wanting to hear what he was saying. 

By the time he came within earshot all he caught the Devil say was **“-you can either pay up with your souls or your money, so which will it be?”**

“P-please. I don't have that sort of money, but I can get it!” The woman begged.

“Yeah! What the dame said!” The man was almost on his knees already.

The Devil smirked. **“Fine. You have twenty-four hours to pay me back. And if you two drips don't come back I'll come collect your payment in full!”**

Not a second later, the two were being physically thrown out of the casino by a couple of bouncers. Once they were gone the Devil left as quickly as he'd arrived and the patrons tentatively went back to their various acts of hedonism. As if it had never happened. 

When the shadow reappeared next to him, Kingsley dared to glare at him. “So, Devil. Did you get togged to the bricks just for me or was this your idea of a disguise?”

He chuckled. **“Worked didn't it? This form is just for when I need to get around. Don't wanna cause a scene when I'm just givin' a tour of my fine establishment.”**

Well, at least now he knew why no one else saw him. “Hm. You know, ya still haven't told me what you want from me or what this deal of yours actually is.”

**“Ah, yes. I was just getting to that. As you saw, there's no shortage of spivs ready to chisel my green away from me. What I want from you is to work here and deal with those vagrants for me.”**

He pulled a face. “What, like a bouncer?” He gestured to his own underfed frame. “Sir, I'm twelve.”

The Devil laughed loudly. **“I did notice. For now, at least, you'll just be my eyes. A snitch. You have an eye for cheaters. All I want from you is to watch the tables from a distance, find exactly who's cheating and tell me.”**

“Like what I just did?”

**“Exactly.”**

Dice looked at all of the tables. There were hundreds of them, all with at least four people playing. “Why don't you just have your other goonies do it? They're already at the tables. Or if ya don't trust them why don't you just check yourself?”

**“Ha! Those lackies can barely be trusted to walk and talk at the same time without screwing it up. And even I can't be everywhere. I have my own business to attend to. What I need is someone whose soul job it is to monitor the... _fairness_ of my establishment.”**

“So long as that fairness is in your favor.”

**“I see we understand each other.”**

It didn't sound like the worst job in the world, but this was the Devil he was dealing with. “And if I say no, you'll just kill me, right?”

The Devil looked him over for a moment. **“You've already caught two cheaters for me, so I'm willing to let you go with your hide intact.”**

“What?”

**“Caught a few cheaters in exchange for curing a bullet wound and some internal bleeding. You can go about your business of cheating hobos out of their dimes. You're practically doing my work already by sellin' vices, so I'm willing to say our deal's done.”**

His head spun. “You'd just let me walk out right now?”

He grinned around his cigar. **“Of course. That is, so long as you want you go back to sleeping in alleyways and fighting off dogs for your bread. Come to think of it, most of your customers were shot so the future of that business of yours is lookin' grim, kiddo.”**

Kingsley instinctively grabbed onto his arm where the bullet wound was. Were all his customers dead? He didn't doubt that most of them were shot and it wasn't like any of them could afford to be stitched back up. It had taken years to build up the tiny business he had, and he would have to start all over again. Could he even survive that long? He would have to go back to begging on the streets. And even if he did live long enough to start selling again, there was no promise that he wouldn't end up in this same position. 

“...If I work for you, what's in it for me?”

**“Comfort. You'll have your very own rooms to snooze in upstairs, three meals will be sent to you everyday, and the food here ain't cheap. All of that on top of a regular salary.”**

“Wait, I'd get paid? How much?”

**“A dollar an hour.”**

He stopped breathing for a moment. A whole dollar every hour. What would he even spend that kind of money on if he was already being given shelter and food? He could buy brand new clothes, he could go to the theater, he could practically do anything! He tried to reign in his excitement but his hands still shook. “And all you're asking me to do is tell you about cheaters?”

**“For now.”**

“For now?”

The Devil shrugged. **“If you do your job well I might ask you to take on extra jobs, you'll go through the ranks. You may even get to be manager if you do well enough. And I promise the pay only gets better from here.”**

He gulped. Even more money? “So I'd have other jobs, like a waiter or dealer?”

**“That's right.”**

“Any unsavory jobs I should know about? I won't find myself hired as your personal assassin, will I?”

He laughed again, loudly enough that Dice was surprised the chandeliers didn't shake. **“Nothing quite that sinister. Although many of my customers are foul, I prefer to do any collecting myself. The most unsavory job you'll have will be garbage duty.”**

“And that's not a euphemism?”

**“Heh, no.”**

It was too good to be true. There had to be some catch, surely. But would any catch really sour such a sweet deal? Surely this would still be a better option than going back on to the streets.

“One more question, Devil. If I take this job of yours, do I have your promise that I can quit if I want to?”

**“Of course. Just be sure to be polite about it. I don't take kindly to runaways.”**

Dice took a deep breath, knowing that for better or worse his life was about to change. He held out his hand for the second time that day. “We have a deal, Devil.”

A clawed hand wrapped around his own. **“And you even kept your soul this time.”**

“Just lucky, I guess.”

**Author's Note:**

> For context, some rough inflation calculations so you know how much money this actually is.
> 
> 1930 -> 2018  
> $0.10 = $1.45  
> $1.00 = $14.60
> 
> Anyway! This was fun to write! Old slang is a hoot and a half to write
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome! <3


End file.
